


The Chanter's Board

by CascadianRain



Series: So Long to Devotion [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: (though he'll never admit it), Apostates (Dragon Age), Chantry Boys, Danarius's Wine Cellar (mentioned), Elthina's Punishment, F/M, Fenris and Anders Won't Quit Bickering, Morning to Evening, One-sided pining, Questioning Beliefs, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 02:32:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12159762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CascadianRain/pseuds/CascadianRain
Summary: 9:33 Dragon, summerWith the usual Sister out sick, it falls to Sebastian to spend the day minding the Chanter’s Board. The long hours are punctuated by Hawke passing through, shattering all of Sebastian’s attempts at inner peace. Things were so much easier when they had a strictly professional relationship, but she is no longer simply “that young lady” who answered his request on the Chanter’s Board nearly two years before.





	The Chanter's Board

_Morning_

The night’s chill clung to the courtyard, the morning’s warmth still working its way down the tall towers of Kirkwall. The golden light lit the statues flanking the Chantry, giving them a holy glow. It was in these brief, stolen moments that Sebastian found peace. It didn’t matter if he was Prince or Brother. He was merely a man with a watering jug, providing sustenance to the flowers that decorated the Chanter’s Board. By the flowers’ reckoning, at least, he was fulfilling the most sacred of duties.

Distant bickering voices pricked his ear. He tensed, ready to defend himself, until he recognized one of them. Her voice like a breeze in Fereldan orchards, Charlie Hawke cut across her companions’ argument.

“If you two don’t shove it, I’ll leave you behind. I know I can convince a certain guard to take a personal day and Merrill could do with a day out of the alienage. Not one more word about _it_.”

At this, a baritone chuckle echoed into the courtyard. Sebastian turned as Hawke strode into view, flanked by a blonde man with a staff and a very irate elf glaring daggers at each other. Hawke’s dwarf friend followed behind, still laughing to himself.

Sebastian’s heart lifted the tiniest bit and he held his breath, waiting for her to notice him.

She didn’t.

Without even a glance at the Chantry, she ducked down the steps to Lowtown. The Darktown healer and elf followed. But the dwarf did look up at the Chantry, his steps slowing briefly. Then his gaze fell to Sebastian. A pensive expression flickered over his face, then the hint of a smirk was back and he, too, disappeared into the shadows.

 

_Afternoon_

Sebastian was dozing. The summer heat and the boredom of minding the Chanter’s Board lulled him away from pious contemplation. The Sister who usually tended the Board was a-bed with a headcold and Elthina had decided that Sebastian was the best suited to fill the position.

The Grand Cleric would never admit as much, but this was a punishment for posting the bounty on Flint Company.

Sebastian didn’t regret it. And he didn’t regret that it was Hawke who answered the request.

The divot from his arrow was still in the Board. He’d found it earlier while tidying the notices. His finger had traced its edge as a smile touched his lips. His family was avenged.

He woke with a start as a familiar voice reached into his ear and smacked him awake.

“I told you two to _shove it_!”

Hawke, halfway across the courtyard, spun around and jabbed a finger at the apostate and the elf, who looked like two  guilty  children caught  by a Chantry Mother .  Dirt and blood smudged her cheek, mud caked her boots. She’d run head-long into danger again, free to unleash her power on any who stood in her way.  All  Sebastian  allowed himself was to take his bow out of the chest at the foot of his bed from time to time. To oil it, or occasionally to string it and test his arm. But it was a Prince’s bow, not a Brother’s.  It was a temptation, and he was meant to put aside such yearnings.

“Anders, stop talking about upending the social order! What is _wrong_ with you? I’ll not have the Templars sniffing around me just for associating with you.”

The apostate hung his head, though a stubborn set to his jaw remained. The elf smirked in triumph until Hawke turned her wrath on him.

“And _you!_ Stop goading him! You know—” She dropped her voice. “You know what he’s struggling against.”

“It’s a hell of his own making,” the elf said without a touch of remorse.

“There but for Andrate’s Grace go I.” Hawke’s whisper carried to Sebastian’s keen ears. “A little support can go a long way to keeping the demons at bay.”

H e sucked in a breath as a chill fell over him. The hairs along his arms and the back of his neck stood up. He was rather intimately familiar with Sera h Hawke’s magic—had a demon been near, waiting to claim her, that night that she saved hi s life ? She was strong of will—beautifully so—how could she be possessed of the same evil abilities as those Magisters who killed  B lessed Andraste? Th ose same abilities avenged his family. The idea that she could fall was...well it didn’t seem possible.

The elf stepped closer to her. “Don’t compare yourself to him, Charlie.  It’s dragons and  snake s. ”

“Ooo, do I get to be a dragon in this scenario?” Her sarcasm had a bite to it.

There was heat beneath the elf’s low laugh. “If you wish it.”

Sebastian took a half step forward before  catching himself.  His fists were clenched so tight they ached. He knew that predatory gleam in the elf’s eyes. Once it had been common enough in his own face. Hawke was a c ar eless flirt, sharp-witted, and a storm in a most alluring vessel. How could anyone not want her? Even the apostate was glaring at the elf with jealousy—

_Ah._ He was no stranger to that either, though never where a woman was concerned. Hawke was Starkhaven and her two companions were his brothers. They were in line to court her while circumstance forced Sebastian to watch from the side.

Starkhaven was never meant to be his. Andraste forgive him for his moment of weakness.

The dwarf  cut in with a terse whisper. “Is this really the best place for this conversation?”

Hawke’s gaze snapped up to the Chantry, darted to the guards and Templars and nobles meandering through the courtyard. “ Right as always, Varric. Let’s go inform our dear Guard-Captain that the bandits are dealt with.”

As they left, s he threw a smile over her shoulder  at the elf and raised an eyebrow in a very saucy manner. Her best friend  _was_ a pirate queen—she was bound to pick up a few things.  It was not for  Sebastian  to judge her actions, but he wished her could warn he r. It is a fleeting happiness to be found in that life,  and many regrets.

And they were gone, headed to the Viscount’s Keep. 

She didn’t see him.

 

_Evening_

The stiff bristles of the broom scrape d against the stones, sending clouds of dust and bits of debris skittering out of the shadow of the Chanter’s Board. It took all afternoon, but Sebastian finally found that delicate inner peace again. Every time he thought he’ d settled on it, his mind conjured Hawke’s quirked eyebrow and teasing smile. Anger and  desire dashed aside all  attempts at  quiet .

That path was not for him to walk any longer. He found his path. The Chantry. And if he strayed again, he’d never earn his way back into Elthina’s good graces.

That determination was what finally squashed his unruly emotions. The repetitive motion of sweeping soothed him  into inner quiet. He chose to take his vows. He chose to serve the Maker. He chose this life.

When his family still lived, he chose this life.

Irregular footsteps stumbled down the stairs from the upper courtyard. He glanced up and froze. Hawke again. Alone this time. Drunk this time. Her sloppy smile and uneven gait announced it from a dozen paces.

His brows drew together. He knew where she’d been. That elf was squatting on one of the vacant mansions up there.

Hawke was nearing the exit toward her own estate, as oblivious to him as she’d been all day.

“ _Hawke_.” 

His call sent her on guard, clutching her staff and ready for action. It sent a pulse of heat through him. Oh but she was a force to be reckoned with. She was a storm building in the heart of Kirkwall.

The moment her gaze found him, Hawke’s grin returned. She crossed the courtyard to him, waving cheerfully. “ Well if it isn’t  the Chantry Prince  with a  _broom!_ ”

Sebastian bowed as though they stood in his family’s court. “My lady.”

Hawke’s brilliant blue eyes danced. “I’ll never tire of hearing  _that_ .”

“Passing a pleasant evening, I trust?” _You can take the Prince out of Starkhaven..._ Manners came easy to him as a lad—they came in useful when pursuing tavern maid and noble lass alike. Now they were a careful dance, keeping everyone at a safe distance.

“Oh very pleasant indeed. Danarius kept quite the wine cellar. If I’m not there to drink the bottles, Fenris throws them at the walls. A crime that I should report him to Aveline for.”

_Fenris, Aveline..._ Names to remember.

“For a mage-hater, the elf certainly seems to have warmed up to you.” _Maker take him!_ Why did he say that?

Hawke’s face flushed a deeper red under the wine-blush. “ It’s refreshing  to live  _almost_ in the open . I didn’t think it was possible for someone who hates  mages so deeply to count himself as my...friend. I wish more people could look at what I’ve made of myself rather than at what the Maker made me.” She giggled to herself, wobbling on her feet.

Sebastian's knuckles whitened on the broom handle. He wasn’t the one who made the Chantry laws. He wasn’t outspoken on either side, and that gave her room to make assumptions about his silence. But she wouldn’t be so friendly with him if she thought poorly of him, or might not have been so thorough the night she saved his life. They’d never spoken of it. Barely spoken at all in the few months since. Sebastian had kept to the Chantry, not wishing to tempt fate again.

Without warning, Hawke threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. Sebastian was too startled to react, standing firm and taut to support her weight.

“Thank you,” she breathed too close to his ear.

“F-for what?”

“For not hating me. And not sending the Templars after me.” She pulled back and winked. “Choir Boy.”

“I would never—!”

“I know. I know that. And it means...more than I can say.” She gnawed her lip for a moment, then leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. Her lips brushed against rough stubble and sent Sebastian hurtling into indecent feelings. _No bride but Andraste—!_

She backed away a few steps, grinning mischievously at the shock that was no doubt plastered across his face. “Good night, Choir Boy. Sweet dreams.”

He watched her make her way unsteadily toward her estate.

Maybe it was better when she didn’t see him.

He needed to pray. _A lot._


End file.
